From beyond the bedroom, the sound of his fiancée; Vanessa Lang, speaking, can be heard. The pitch and tone of her voice make the emotion carry through the walls, though her exact words are inaudible to the camera.
Not so Hans. As he continues to listen through what must clearly be the twin to the phone Vanessa herself is using, his face goes through a range of expression, though his body remains still and voice silent.
At one point, his eyes widen with fury as he hears something clearly not to his liking. With visible effort, he holds the phone away from ear, and glances to his right towards the wall, and the lounge area of the penthouse where Vanessa currently is, as her voice filters through the phones speaker.
(Vanessa): Do you think Hans cares about if I need him or not. The fact of the matter is that he’s always been there whether I need him or not. He’s…
Mouthing words silently, and shaking his head in a manner of sheer frustration, though the clenched fist of his free hand and stiff posture tell of the fire now lit within, he brings the phone back to his ear.
Slowly, his features soften, as he hears the words his fiancée says, drawing his free hand up to his mouth, allowing his fingers to play over the stubble coating his chin, as he begins to get lost in his thoughts, so much so that when he hears Vanessa end the call abruptly, he thinks nothing of simply placing the phone down onto the side table.
A few minutes pass, before his iPhone, currently nestled in the inside pocket of his leather jacket; itself draped almost uncaringly over the back of the chair at the dressing table begins to vibrate loudly before an obnoxious sounding ringtone cuts through the quietness like a hot knife through butter.
Groaning with irritation at his thoughts being interrupted, Hans slowly swings his feet off the bed and onto the carpeted floor, rubbing his eyes before stretching his arms out. Clearly in no rush, he makes his way around the king sized bed, and round to the dressing table where he extracts his iPhone.
Glancing at the screen as it shows an unknown number only brings a further groan from his lips, as he settles it down onto the table as it goes to his answering machine.
(Hans): *Muttering* What journalist schweinhund’s gotten their hands on my number now?
The door to the bedroom opens up a notch, as a flash of red hair can be seen, soon followed up by the rest of Vanessa Lang as she steps into the room, clearly surprised to see him there.
(Vanessa): Honey, how long have you been here?
Not even giving him time to answer, her hands go to her mouth, mortified.
(Vanessa): Oh-my-god, what did you hear?
Allowing himself a moments silence to gauge the moment, he responds with a sombre lilt to his words.
(Hans): What didn’t I hear you and your mother say?
The hands stay covering the mouth, as Vanessa takes a step into the room.
(Vanessa): Oh god, please don’t… please don’t…
Hans takes the few short steps towards her and embraces her, as tears roll down her cheeks and into the fabric of his shirt.
(Vanessa): She’s just. She just… just…
(Hans): Ignorant? Xenophobic? Racist?
Unable to stop the cutting tone entering his voice, he falls silent, as Vanessa clenches her eyes tight at his words.
A shuddering heave comes from her, before she forces out the next few words, in a voice almost deathly quiet.
(Vanessa): Please don’t hate her.
Silence. Long and uncomfortable silence.
Hugging him tighter almost in an effort to elicit a response from him, Vanessa chokes back another set of tears as Hans digs deep for the response she wants to hear.
Finally, after what seems like an age, he blows out a deep breath, and allows his head to droop, kissing the top of her head.
(Hans): For you, I will.
Though his words say one thing, his body language states another, but nonetheless, Vanessa hugs him tighter still.
(Vanessa): Thank you…
Fading out briefly, the scene resumes onto the interior of Hans’ Aston Martin DBS V12, Hans naturally occupying the drivers seat, while Vanessa the passengers. Both of them are currently looking straight ahead, clearly focused on something behind the camera.
(Vanessa): Last chance to stop me.
In response, Hans flicks a switch on his dashboard, and the passenger door clicks open marginally, as he reaches towards her seatbelt buckle, and depresses the button, allowing the strap to recoil across her chest until it’s caught by the crook of her arm.
He angles his head towards her, eyes fixing on her own.
(Hans): This is your choice. You know how I feel about this, but I will not stop you doing what you choose to do either.
He leans in for a kiss.
(Hans): And besides, I’m grateful that you’d go to such lengths for me, even though we know nothing about what Senesters actually got in mind for me…
Trailing off, he watches as Vanessa inhales, takes a look out at the gym beyond, and then back at Hans, her mind clearly settled.
(Vanessa): And are you sure that you’re going to be ok with it being Belial and Duriel I’m training with… cos… y’know…
Hans simply clears his throat, as he gestures at the engagement ring on Vanessa’s hand.
Leaning back, and crossing his arms, he tilts his watch up to allow him to see the time.
(Hans): Go on, I’ll pick you up at 8.
Not moving an inch, a slow smile begins to creep up on Vanessa’s face.
(Hans): Go on, get going…
He leans in for a final kiss, as Vanessa finally pushes her door open fully, and slips off the seatbelt completely as Hans makes a shooing motion with his hands.
(Hans) … move, move, schnell!
The scene fades out momentarily, before resuming in on a small non-descript interview room. Plain white walls and black seating of the hard-wearing, and lower priced nature are all that is there, besides Hans himself.
(Hans): It is your greatest wish that you needn’t destroy me, is it now Senester? Well, it is my greatest wish that you leave my fiancée out of your plans involving me, or anyone else for that matter. We don’t always get what we want however.
He pauses, pursing his lips and working his jaw, in no doubt as to the meaning of his words.
(Hans): You respect my professionalism? Thank you. Such a thing is often overlooked in the veritable circus that is HWA. Since you responded in kind to my confession, I offer another.
Why do I disagree so much, and rail against what you have to offer me? It’s because that life is not for me Senester. There is a toll that’s exacted on anyone that decides to come under your wing, and it’s one that, quite frankly, never ceases, even if you manage to get out.
I couldn’t take it. I’ve never been one for the drugs and the #####s. Fast cars are a vice for me, but somehow being able to have the pick of any I so choosed, and often on no more than a whim somehow never quite matched the longing for, and coveting that went with being out of your esteemed company. Late night parties and inflicting misery on others simply because the mood takes me? No, that’s not me at all.
You spoke to me earlier about my dream of white picket fences and iydillic Americana. I was wrong to say that you were wide of the mark. You were spot on. I don’t want to have things easy, or in many cases, unearned, yet still lavished on me. The man who has everything, has nothing. I won’t be that person.
…
And I will make you see that, come ‘Fatality’ Senester. I’m the one that got away, and I will continue to be that one. Regardless of what you do, that will not change.
…
Probably little point in saying that I’d really rather you just left me be Senester, but there it is nonetheless. I’m not out to ‘end you’, or stop your reign of dominance over the HWA. But the man who didn’t allow anything to stand in his way is still very much alive Senester.
And you are, regrettably, placing yourself in my path, and giving me little option as to where else I can go…
Falling silent, he stares into the lens, before calmly getting to his feet, and walking off screen as it the scene fades to black.
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